Black ladies in uniform stroll with such attitude.
Douchebags with lattes and cell phones. They all have better things to do, they’re just not sure what it is.
Old folks barely getting along. Hobbling on canes wishing their bodies could keep up with their minds.
My time hasn’t come yet, but it’s right around the corner.
So I order another and consider the person I used to be here in the city. I miss that guy sometimes—although I’m still not sure who he was.
Wrong place at the right time? Or some bullshit. My heart hurts and my brain is fuzzy.
Finish up and pay. The tourists have arrived and things are about to get irritating. Especially now that I’m a tourist, too. Onward.